Write What You Know
by mewmew2709
Summary: A novel. A bird. A romance. A murder. What does it take for two people to collide? -USUK, eventual PrUK, some other pairings may pop up as I go along-
1. WATER

**So, here is another little fanfiction I came up with during my time without the interwebs. **

**I really don't know what to say here, other than I don't own Hetalia, so I'll just shut up and let you read.  
**

* * *

Rain poured everywhere; it was the perfect setting for a death. But no one had died, and no one was dying. There was only a lone man trudging through the London streets, his pale hair shining silver in the moonlight. His clothes were dark, clinging to his body and soaked from the constant downpour. It was this image that truly inspired Arthur.

The Briton had been leaning against his window pane, staring aimlessly out into the rain, when he saw the man. Arthur had written some short stories before, and so this odd rain-walker became just another idea. As he watched the man disappear out of sight, plots and characters began formulating their way into Arthur's mind. He had no idea how long he had sat there, against the window pane, thinking up thoughts for this new story, but something about the whole scene made Arthur know that this could be the one. The story that got his name out there. He couldn't explain why he felt this way, perhaps because it was a different storyline than his others, perhaps because he just really wanted something to make his face known. Whatever it was, it pushed Arthur to start writing, at two in the morning despite having classes the nest day.

Four hours and twenty-five pages later, Arthur lay down his pen and the pad of paper and flexed his fingers. The sunlight had begun to peer around the clouds, a hazy orange glow spreading across the city of London.

Arthur stood up and walked to the small kitchenette inside his dorm room, and began boiling some water for his tea. The Briton yawned and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. Once his tea had been made, he walked back to the window, pressing his forehead against the glass once more. People had begun to appear from their flats, mingling around the outer rings of the campus.

Arthur took another sip of his tea, glancing across the room to where his roommate was sprawled across the bed, snoring slightly. Alfred could probably sleep through the end of the world, which Arthur would occasionally use to his advantage. After all, Alfred would draw on his face whenever the Briton came home drunk; it was only fair that Arthur could do the same.

Deciding to be different this morning, Arthur walked back over to the kitchenette and grabbed a bowl. The blonde turned on the water, running his fingers through it to make sure it was icy, and began filling the large bowl he had chosen. Arthur found it odd that faucets took hours to create warm water for a shower, but mere seconds to create icy water for pouring over a loud-mouthed, snoring roommate. Shrugging the thought away, Arthur walked over to where his roommate was standing and flipped the bowl over, a cascade of icy water falling down upon his head.

Alfred woke up coughing and swearing. Arthur lowered the bucket and his usual scowl appeared back on his face. Alfred blinked some water out of his eyes before shaking his head like a dog, getting Arthur wet. Arthur guessed he deserved it, but still…

"Good morning, twit."

"You too…" Alfred yawned, then grinned. He was always smiling, the git. Alfred was much too happy for Arthur to deal with, and his insane amount of happy was only one of the many things that Arthur found to be a bother about the American. But, Arthur had a pertinent question to ask Alfred, and thus, the boy had to be dealt with. Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. "I've begun writing a new story. I've finished the first two chapters, and I'd like you to read them."

"Okay, but, dude, since when do you care about my opinion?" Alfred turned his head to the side. Both men knew that Arthur never came to Alfred for advice, and so this was a rare occasion. Arthur shrugged. "Because I am a cynic and I would like someone who is not as cynical as I to read it over and tell me whether if I should continue it or scrap it."

Arthur leaned towards his roommate, cold green eyes narrowed. "But, you must promise me not to say anything about superheroes or the main character having superpowers. Because that is not going to happen, and if you say anything, you'll never see this again."

"Until it's published." Alfred hadn't even read a single word of what Arthur had written, yet he assumed that it would end up being published. Damn optimist.

"If it's published. You haven't even read it yet." Arthur Kirkland, the pessimist. Or realist, if one wanted to look at it like that. Either way, Alfred was getting a glimpse into the mysterious word of his British roommate. Alfred knew that he was being overly positive that he would find out about Arthur's life just by reading two chapters of late night scribbling, but Alfred preferred to be positive. Besides, even if he didn't get to know his roommate better, then at least he would be a deciding factor on whether or not there would be more of the book. That was good enough for Alfred.

So as Arthur grabbed a change of clothes and went off to shower, Alfred began reading. Twenty minutes later, Arthur came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. Alfred barely glanced up, continuing to read. Arthur, done drying his hair, tossed the towel carelessly onto his bed and stood over where Alfred was perched. Arthur crossed his arms again. "How far have you gotten?"

"First chapter. It's really interesting, but I can't always follow." Alfred flipped the page over. "Not that it's too hard to read or anything, you just sound really smart."

"He's a killer, Alfred."

"The main guy?" Alfred looked up at his roommate with wide blue eyes. Alfred wasn't the type to read murder stories, or watch murder movies. He was more into superheroes, sci-fi, and romance. Arthur had no idea why Alfred liked romance, but he did. Arthur nodded in reply to Alfred's question. "The man in the rain is a killer. Why do you think he kills?"

"For love?" Alfred was hoping it was something like that. Of course he was. He had heard bits of Arthur's stories, as the Briton would sometimes speak the words out loud as he typed them into his laptop. Most of them were tragic romance, and Alfred was expecting another one.

"No, he's insane, and believes his pet to be God. He's making sacrifices." Arthur twirled a pen between his fingers. Alfred shivered, not sure he enjoyed the idea of sacrificing for an animal god. "That's kind of weird…"

"It's different." Arthur shrugged again, grabbing his bags and walking out of the dorm. He had classes today, and he wanted to get there early. After taking the stairs (the elevator was out of order, again) the Briton walked out into the foggy morning. As he walked, a flash of yellow caught his eye, and he turned to see a small bird hopping around by the edge of a puddle. Furrowing his eyebrows, Arthur walked to the puddle and squatted down by the bird. It looked up at him with little black eyes. "Peep!"

Arthur picked up the baby bird, cupping it in his hands. "What were you doing in a puddle, you silly little thing? Someone could have stepped on you."

The bird peeped again, hopping around on Arthur's palm. Arthur noticed a small tag on the bird's leg, perhaps the equivalent to a collar on a dog. Shifting the bird into one hand, the Briton reached with his other to try and read the small writing on the tag. The chick only hopped up Arthur's arm, pecking at his fingers. The blonde tried to look at the tag again, but the bird only hopped onto Arthur's other hand. It looked up innocently. "Peep?"

"Bloody bird, I'm trying to see what's on your leg!" Arthur reached for the tag again, only to have the bird fly up onto his head. Arthur sighed, grabbing the bird and holding it in his hands once again. He held the bird a few inches from his face, wishing that the yellow ball of feathers wasn't so frustrating. After all, it was only a baby bird. It shouldn't be too hard to get a glimpse of the tag that probably held its home address. Arthur held the bird with one hand and flipped the tag over with the other. On it was an address, as Arthur had expected, as well as a name for the bird. "Gilbird." The Briton set the bird on his shoulder. "Sit."

"Peep!" The bird hopped onto Arthur's shoulder, but luckily did not move onto his head or any other part of his body. The blonde checked his watch. "I've still got thirty minutes before my class starts. I should have time to get you home and not be late."

"Peep!" Gilbird seemed excited to get home, and Arthur understood. He wouldn't want to be abandoned in a puddle either. Arthur tapped Gilbird on its head. "Alright, let's go."

**YAY Gilbird. Note: I understand that this chapter is not the most interesting thing on the planet. The next one will be the exact opposite. Not because it is from Prussia's POV, but because whenever I write in first-person, the character I am writing as becomes a little spazzier than usual. **

**Please R&R for ADHD Prussia!  
**


	2. BIRD

**So I have finally gotten the second chapter up (sorry for the wait) and it is in Prussia's POV. I made Prussia kind of ADHD mainly so that, when this gets darker, there will still be some random Prussia-ness.**

**That, and Prussia is awesome. FACT.  
**

* * *

I am the most amazing, manly, sexy, attractive, awesome man to ever walk the earth, so there is no need to go looking for someone more awesome than I. Because you'll only be wasting your time. But, despite my awesomeness, I have an obsession with cute things, like fluffy, feathery little birds. I guess that it only makes me more appealing to chicks, which, really, is impossible since there is nothing about me that isn't loveable. I actually have a pet bird, and because he is nearly as awesome as ne, I had to name him after myself. I am Gilbert Beilschmidt, and Gilbird is my adorable, peeping ball of fluff.

And I lost him. I have no idea how! This current situation is not awesome at all. Because of my lack of Gilbird, I spent most of last night wandering around downtown London, in the rain, looking for my pet bird. I swear, I searched everywhere, yet I couldn't find him!

If some unawesome cat ate him, I will find the heinous feline and make it regret ever being born.

Or maybe Lizzy ate him. That chick is crazy beyond possible, so I really wouldn't be surprised if she dared to eat the awesome Gilbird. I bet she fried him up in her stupid frying pan…

Doorbell! Someone is about to be graced by my awesome presence! I get to the door, and after checking that it isn't Lizzy on the other side about to pan my awesome face off, I slam the door open, an awesome smirk on my face. There's a smallish man in the doorway, and he's got some pretty huge eyebrows. Like, bigger that one of those jumbo erasers big. They're also really black.

"Is this your bird?" Oh, awesome, he's got a British accent. Well, of course he does, I live in fucking England. It would probably be weirder if he didn't have a British accent. British accents make people 20% more awesome if they're real, mainly because British accents are the most awesome thing since me. However, fake accents are just lame. No one wants to talk to an unawesome person with a fake British accent. No one.

"Hello? Are you even listening to me?" To your awesome accent, yes, I am. But that's not what he's talking about. There's a little feathery chick on his palm and OH MEIN GOTT "GILBIRD!"

I snatch the little fluff-ball into my own hands, grinning and rubbing him against my cheek. In a totally awesome way, of course. I look up, noticing that the man on the porch is looking at me in awe, and I realize that he has become stunned by my awesomeness. I can understand why. After all, there aren't many red-eyed, silver-haired awesome German albinos in London. Of course he'd be in complete awe.

I grin down at him. "Can't handle the awesomeness?"

"Excuse me?" The guy raises an eyebrow. A huge eyebrow. It's like a caterpillar, all fuzzy and wriggly and caterpillar…y. That's not even a word. What the hell?

Mein Gott, I get distracted by pretty much everything. Not awesome. But, back to reality…

"You look stunned. Was my awesome too much for you to handle at once?" The shit-eating grin's still on my face, and the man still seems mesmerized. I guess I didn't space out for too long. Good.

"Aren't you conceited." The man crosses his arms and I laugh. "Kesesesesese… maybe I am, or maybe I just really am that awesome."

"I doubt it." He turns around, leaving. Not cool, no one just walks away from the awesome me. So, I must keep him in my awesome presence until I decide he can leave it. "Hey, who are you, anyway?"

"My name's Arthur Kirkland, and I have a class to get to. So if you don't mind, and even if you do, I'll be leaving." He doesn't even stop walking off. Arschloch. I place Gilbird on my head. "My name's Gilbert Beilschmidt, don't forget it!"

"Oh trust me, I _won't._" And then, he's gone. I turn around and go back into my house, letting the door slam behind me. I go back to my room to continue what I was doing before Arthur Kirkland brought me my bird: pretending to be working but not actually getting anything accomplished.

A few minutes into tying up a paper (not awesome), Gilbird starts peeping an alarmed little sound. I shut the music off, spinning around in my chair to face my bird. "Was ist, Piepsen?"

"Peep!" Gilbird flies around in his cage frantically. I shrug, then turn my music back on, and continue trying to work, screaming out the lyrics as I go. My mind starts to wander, which is perfectly okay when I don't want to be doing a stupid research paper for an unawesome class anyway. It's not okay when there is a British guy on my doorstep giving back my bird that he found playing in a puddle.

Why the hell was Gilbird in a puddle anyway? I ask him over my shoulder, but I only get a "peep" in return. At least he responds to me; Gilcat only ate my iTouch. Cats are strange animals.

"Beilschmidt!" Holy shit! Lizzy's voice is coming from my laptop! It's fucking possessed! I fling the demonic electronic (I just rhymed. Awesome.) across the room. "BEGONE DEMON!"

"Beilschmidt, you idiot. You've still got your online chat thing on." Oh, oh yeah. That was not awesome, what I just did. I grab my laptop and check that my sheer force of awesome didn't break it. I then switch tabs so that Lizzy's face is on my computer screen. "Hey Lizzy."

"Who was that guy at your door? A date?" Lizzy's face brightens at the idea of me having a boyfriend. She's convinced that I'm gay. Actually, she's convinced that every guy is gay, but whatever. I personally think she's insane, especially after she tried to set me up with my own half-brother. Though, Ludwig and I look and act nothing alike, and since we don't live together and we actually have different last names, I didn't punch Lizzy too hard.

Yes, I punched a girl. But still, Lizzy could kill me much more painfully than I could kill her. She's crazy, so I have an excuse to occasionally punch her. Self-defense.

I shake my head. "No, Lizzy, he's just the guy who found Gilbird."

"You should date him, though. He's kind of cute." Lizzy smiles, and I have a feeling that no matter what I say, Lizzy is going to try and set me up with Arthur Kirkland anyway. I lean back in my chair, my mind going through all the possible things I could respond with. Eventually, I just tell her that I don't even know him, and that it would be pretty weird to just go up and ask him out.

"No it wouldn't."

"Yes, Liz, it would." She doesn't get it. Of course not. "If you ask a straight guy to go out with you, they'll probably punch you in the face. Or something."

Liz crosses her arms. "Trust me Gilbo, I saw something between the two of you. You'll end up together, even if I have to use a straight jacket to do so."

"You have a straight jacket?" I raise an eyebrow in mock surprise, smirking. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"Fuck you, Beilschmidt."

**YAY. Anyway, please read and review, because reviews make me happy. **

**Also, next chapter we get a bit of USUK fluff. Be warned. (Note: it won't be very fluffy because I hate fluff and kind of suck at writing it.)  
**


End file.
